Take Me To Church - A Spideypool Oneshot
by Saint-Whatername
Summary: Peter and Wade share a moment alone.


_My lover's got humor, he's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should have worshiped him sooner..._

Peter Parker leaned in the doorway to his living room; a mug in one hand, he rested his head against the wooden frame. The corners of his lips flicked up, his hooded gaze settled over the man on his sofa. Wade Wilson was a pillar in Peter's life yet he never crumbles under pressure. The older man glanced towards his spying lover, his chest rumbled with a low chuckle. Wade is the only person Peter has ever known who has been able to teach his joy with such un-abided passion. Eyes locked, Peter shook his head softly, a lazy grin stretching across his features.

_If the heavens ever did speak, he's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's looking more bleak, a fresh poison each week..._

As Wade Wilson pooled his gaze over Peter, he almost laughed at the impossibility of his situation. Wade was not the good guy; he was never the one the city thanked... So what had he done to deserve the God that stood before him? Even in times when the cancer ripped through his veins like acid, Peter's voice was as soothing as an angel's choir. Peter is pure.

_"We were born sick", you heard them say it..._

Leisurely, Peter approached Wade, and placing down the steaming cup, he pressed his lush lips to his other's gnarled ear. Gently, his willowy hands rested upon the heavily scared shoulders of Wade, his forehead resting against the back of his skull. The two had been through much, when Peter had come out as openly bisexual, he was ridiculed by his classmates, segregated by teachers, even damned by strangers. The two had come so far...

_My church offers no absolutes; he tells me worship in the bedroom. The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you. I was born sick but I love it, command me to be well. Amen._

The former mercenary sighed contentedly. Dipping his eyelids closed, the man reflected upon his life through the past 10 years. Sometimes, when the voices in his head became too much and he feared himself lost in his own mind; Peter would take his hands and lead him to their shared bed. And in the throes of deafening pleasure and animosity, Wade swore to himself that this is what heaven would be like, if he could die.

_Take me to church; I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. Offer me that deathless death, good God let me give you my life._

Tilting his bald head back, Wade captured Peter's soft lips in his own chapped pair. The two took as second to breathe each other, in stillness they were able to truly experience their love. As a sudden surge of unadulterated adoration flooded through Wade's cancer ridden body, his mind raced. In that moment, he knew that he would always crave this man, this boy. This boy with his daily deceptions. Wade would never reveal to Peter he knew about his secret patrols through New York City. Though it had been a seemingly a life time since their golden age, he understood Peter missed it.

Peter glided his finger tips down Wade's chest, just barely making contact, leaving a ghostly trail in their wake. He would trust this man with his life, and he knew that even if he were to die by the hand of another, he could think of no other person he would wish to see in his final moments.

_If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight. To keep the God on my side, he demands a sacrifice_.

As Peter came round to face his other, the two held timeless eye contact. The two had sacrificed so much for one another, Peter had destroyed any chance of fame and recognition he avengers could have provided him if he hadn't fallen for the killer. And Wade, Wade had decimated his entire way of life. No longer did he abuse his own body; no longer did he act destructively to others. Because Peter had asked it of him, he had changed. They both had.

_Drain the whole sea, get something shiny. Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse...What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful. That looks tasty, that looks plenty; this is hungry work..._

Lips crashing together like the waves of a tempest, the two's blood rushing through their ears like waves crashing and climbing. Peter thought about how much he had changed as a person. The disagreement with the avengers had caused him to become more humble, and realize that he didn't need recognition of reparations for the duty he carried out. Not just himself, either. Wade had transformed. He was starving for even a off cut of trust. And that's exactly what Peter gave him.

_No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence then our gentle sin. In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene, only then I am human. Only then I am clean. Amen._

As the two men became one, the tension drove the two into ferals. All airs the two may have presented to each other in the past was in that moment gone. They were one and there was no start and no end. A cleansing heat burned through their minds, turning their vision white. The two's moans echoed like prayers through the otherwise empty apartment.

As Wade collapsed a single word rang through his oddly silent mind, and similarly as Peter's head planting itself onto the order's chest, a single word sighed from his parted lips.

**Amen. **


End file.
